Stand By Me
by Funky Chicken
Summary: Set after Innocence (S2). With Angelus back, Spike and Buffy have kinks in their love lives. But with the help of a spell and a fateful meeting, Spike and Buffy discover that maybe Angel wasn't the only vamp for Buffy. S/B with character death/vamping.
1. Intro to the Truth

_You're wrong. I know what you're probably thinking right now, and you're wrong. But, you're not blind. It was my name, William the Bloody, Spike, whatever you fancy, on the front of this little journal, so don't worry about that. But unfortunately for you mate, this isn't a map to my whereabouts. You'll find no little secrets as to where I've gone. _

_It's not a diary either. This little book you're holding so neatly in your smug hands is in fact what you would call my legacy. My story. My truth. My truth about what really happened. _

_Sure, you're thinking, I could be lying. What I have to say about myself, that poof Angelus, and the Slayer could all be just a bunch of rubbish I cooked up to save my own bloody ass. But you see, what lies in these pages is not just some fantasy. It's a story; a real story about how the Slayer and I came to be in this old run down motel in the middle of the night. _

_Not a scrap of this, not even the events that don't include myself, is false. I know, you'd expect some piece of artwork from a devious brute such as myself, but honestly, I don't have time to go thinking up anything else but the truth. Buffy will be awake soon enough, and she's going to need me when she does. _

_Now, where to start this story I'm about to tell? There's so much you need to know, and so much you don't… A lot of it doesn't matter; a lot is just things that would normally happen between a Slayer and a vampire such as myself. But, now that I think about it, there is one place I could bring you in. One particular night that was the beginning of things to come. It showed something to both the Slayer and I, and it was a new time for her, a desperate time for both of us. Hell, just read on and you'll see…_


	2. Enlighten Me

Sunnydale. The town's name spoke of happy greetings and bright days showered with smiles. Kids rode their bikes while following the ice cream truck. Parents picked their sons and daughters up from school and took the family dog for a walk. Daughters became nurses and secretaries; sons grew up to be lawyers and doctors. 

Sure, it could happen. Then again, looking down the dank, dark alleyway, it was hard to believe that such a renegade side street could be part of a picture-perfect town.

Rodents were the main course of life, scurrying about beneath overturned crates and behind garbage dumpsters overflowing with human waste. Shadows were hardly a surprise, sheets of blackness flowing over and through each other, allowing not a trace of light past their ink-like barriers. 

Rain had somehow found its way between the buildings that lined either side of the alleyway. The light sprinkle was already forming puddles everywhere in the uneven concrete. 

Surveying the silent chaos to which he had been exposed, Spike felt quite at home. A terrifying catacomb such as this was completely devoid of humanity, and though he would love to be provided with some helpless victim, the serenity was enough to satisfy his hunger for now. 

Lifting a petite, white cylinder to his lips, the sound of a Zippo clinking open echoed around the brick walls as finally a hint of light was added to the atmosphere. But the flame was extinguished not a moment later, metal hitting metal again as the lighter was closed. 

Keeping the bringer of habitual pleasure at his lips, Spike took the cigarette between his fingers, inhaling a sensual, drawn out drag. The toxic chemicals streamed through his system, attempting to do damage to his tissue, but failing. Walking corpses were very rarely affected by tobacco. 

Spike was revelling in the silence that had finally overtaken him. For nearly a day, all he had been exposed to was the taunting laughter of Angelus, the swooning moans of Drusilla, and the dismay of conquer that had come in many forms. 

Angelus had returned again. Spike knew that he should be bouncing from wall to wall, singing a merry little tune with Drusilla at his side, making some poor businessman suffer the torture that would become Spike's aphrodisiac. But no, he had subsided to the shadows, the calm of darkness. Why? He didn't even want to think about it. 

Looking with overdrawn boredom to his booted feet, Spike tenderly put pressure on one of the limbs. He was currently folded in a wheelchair, but lately his legs hadn't been bothering him as much. One of the many benefits that came with eternal life was of course accented healing powers. 

Pressing himself even farther onto his limb when pain didn't become a factor, Spike gave a cruel grin. It wasn't long before he was standing on both feet, his leather duster crinkled from being sat on all day, but still flowing neatly about either limb. The feeling of standing was like being born again. He wasn't a prisoner of the aluminum frame anymore. 

Taking in a deep breath, Spike gazed about the world with yellowing eyes. He was at a new altitude now. It had been quite a while since he had last stood up, and did it ever feel good. He felt strong again.

Of course, Angelus wouldn't be allowed the knowledge of Spike's ability to stand. Not even Dru would be permitted to know that Spike's legs were virtually healed. For now, he wanted to watch Angel. Spike had the feeling that Angelus had lost a few bolts in his head along with his soul, and for that reason, it would be best to let his grandsire take dominance for the time being. If he knew that Spike was almost as strong as him, the blonde vampire might become nothing more than a pile of dust. 

Buffy pulled on her pristine white jacket while she slipped into a pair of comfortable heels. She couldn't remember ever being able to say that 'getting older' was the only thing she had done for her birthday. Then again, she _had_ lost her virginity, but for now, the terrible aftermath of such an action was enough to cancel out the bright star her night with Angel had been. 

Glancing momentarily at her bedroom door, Buffy felt guilty for sneaking out on her mother yet again, but she just couldn't stay inside. She felt like she might suffocate. The air was so dry, the walls so closed, the carpet and furniture so smothering. Who wouldn't feel trapped?

Climbing onto her roof, Buffy followed her usual route to the ground, finally free to explore the cool, crisp, and slightly moist twilight surrounding her. The rain that sprinkled down on her cheeks was a welcomed treat. 

For a while, Buffy kept up a strong composure, strolling the streets of Sunnydale with confidence. Her head was held high, legs moving in fluid strides, lungs taking in deep, cleansing breaths. 

All of that continued until she passed by a tattoo parlour, and she spotted a pair of wings with the word "Angel" scrawled across the centre. The simple design brought floods of memories thundering through Buffy's veins. They weren't thoughts, only images that glowed with different emotions, all of which had to be extinguished now.

Buffy glanced up, and was thankful to see an alleyway cutting away from the main street like a stab wound. The Slayer skipped ahead as quickly as she could, scooting around the corner and into the pitch black side street, her hands immediately clutching her face, allowing whimpers to drip through her fingers. 

Spike replaced himself in the red metal cage that had become his home for some time now. The muscles in his legs clenched firmly around each other as he did so, and the vampire realised that just standing had been slightly exerting. Perhaps he wasn't as strong as he thought. 

The vampire's varnished fingernails were just about to pull out his lighter and cigarettes again when an odd sound struck him. Stopping all movement, Spike glanced toward the end of the alleyway, and saw a blonde creature fling herself around the corner, her face immediately thrown into her hands, entire form convulsing in whimpers. She looked appetizing indeed, all bothered. There was something about her though that seemed familiar; something Spike couldn't quite place from this distance.

Spike turned toward the girl, strong arms propelling him easily upon the black rubber wheels. Beneath the cloak of darkness, Spike could still hardly see anything upon first glance. Animalistic eyes squinted, attempting to make out a few more of the contours, figure out what it was about the girl that made her seem so familiar. 

Blonde hair was falling everywhere. On Buffy's shoulders, in front of her face, even behind the hands that were clasping her sobs, so rich in pain. Pain was all she could see, hear and feel right now. But somewhere, Buffy was also feeling something odd, some premonition tugging at the edge of her mind.

By now, Spike had stopped not three feet away from the unknown girl. He was about to stand up, ready to pounce on the girl, have his first kill in a long time, when something stopped him. She looked up, exposing both Slayer and vampire to something neither of them had quite expected. 

"Slayer…" Spike's voice caught in his throat. He sat down quickly, swiftly; hoping the tousled strands of hair in front of her eyes had been enough to blind her from the sight of him rising from the wheelchair. Even the slightest idea that he was a threat to Buffy and her pathetic Scoobies could mean the dust bucket for Spike. 

Buffy's hands brushed blonde away from her face immediately at the sight of him, wiping away her tears. Mascara was now liquefied, creating black streaks near her eyes. "Spike… What are you doing here?"

A rather smug, intelligent smile curled across Spike's lips. "I dunno, love. I was about to ask you the same question… what's a pretty girl like yourself doing down in my neck of the woods?" he spoke mockingly, and his lips remained plastered in their smirk. But, as his voice echoed about the alleyway, Spike's words hit him with a brutal force he didn't imagine. 

Buffy might be the Slayer, the one being on the entire planet who was made by nature to be a warrior. She might have the blue prints of a perfect killing machine, a machine with a soul of course, and therefore sworn to kill his kind. But… damn… she was hot. 

Every time he and the Slayer had met before, it had been because they were mortal enemies. Spike had looked over her body not so much as a shape and artwork, but more as a piece of meat; a piece of meat where targets for him to strike at were placed here and there. They had met in combat always before, at times when he was a threat. Now, he was no threat, he was 'stuck' in a wheelchair, and Buffy didn't have to punch him upon sight. 

"None of your business" Buffy shot back, her voice laced with some form of poison. She had become very irritable right now, most likely because of Spike's presence. That mocking, always laughing gaze of his, the contempt tone of voice. 

When Buffy slung her words to him, those particular words, Spike knew exactly what had her so tied. "Oh", he said, drawing the word out in realisation "you're all hissy because you've been thinking about the big poof again, right?" Those eyes. The way her eyes pierced him with every word. The way her hips were connected to her body just perfectly. How had he not noticed it before?

Green eyes, exploding with a thousand pitless emotions, glanced at Spike. "Who?"

Spike smirked, his thoughts on Buffy's appearance stopped momentarily. The exact curve of Spike's lips made Buffy's mind tingle with ferocity. "Angel. The big poof. You know, your ex, about…" Spike lifted his hand high in the air, stretching as far as he could "yay high, hair up to the clouds…" 

"I know who he is, Spike" Buffy interrupted, not wanting a lecture on her inability to comprehend his nicknames for others. 

"Well, sorry pet. You just seemed confused" Spike continued to let the smirk drip from the edges of his lips, letting it hang loosely, casually. It was an excellent mask for what was really going on behind his fathomless eyes. 

"Leave me alone" Buffy's words were short, to the point. Demanding. She wanted him out of sight.  

"Well, let me think here. 'No' would be a good answer in my opinion" Aside from the smirk, Spike was left bewildered still. His insides were churning, the natural male in him just itching to let his eyes continue to explore the Slayer's form. Every curve seemed to be more than perfect. Her tight jeans weren't exactly modest, either.

The vampire in him though was constantly telling his innards to shut up. This girl was the Slayer. She would stick a spear of wood through him at the first sign that she needed the chance to do so. She was the Slayer. Vampires, well, vampires like him at least, _don't_ get turned on by the Slayer. 

Spike's egos continued to battle with each other. 

"Leave Spike. Or else I'll…"

"What? Sob on me?" scoffing slightly, Spike took pleasure in his mocking ways "I'm scared, Slayer. Real scared" Spike smirked, watching the contortion on Buffy's face grow even more amusing. God, this girl had fallen hard for Angel. Having seen Angelus day in and day out for decades at a time had made Spike constantly question why.

Buffy gave an angered, disgusted sigh, unfolding the arms she had only recently crossed in the first place. "Fine." Rolling her eyes, she pushed herself away from the wall using the hips Spike had recently been admiring. Glancing her over one last time, Spike noticed something that the Slayer obviously had not. 

The heel on her right shoe was wedged into a small pothole. The motion of Buffy's rather angered paces as she went to walk away from Spike was enough to send her falling forward, precariously toppling toward the earth. 

Spike jumped up, despite the fact that Buffy would obviously uncover the truth about his injury. Muscular arms stretched out to catch the girl, wrapping around the shoulders of her ivory jacket, and holding her above the earth for a moment. Everything stopped. 

In catching the girl, and instinctively turning her to face him, Spike's fingers had accidentally brushed against the open nape of her neck. The breeze created by either of their motions had catapulted Buffy's scent toward him in a fury of fruit and natural beauty. 

Buffy's spine had been wracked with electric tremors as the cool caress of Spike's fingers had trickled against her heated flesh. Her mind reeled, remembering the touch that only a vampire could bring to her. His scent was something rather pleasing. Cigarettes mixed with some aroma that could only come with a rugged being such as Spike. 

For a moment, Slayer and vampire remained in the cloak of darkness, wrapped in each other's hold. Spike's leather duster was perfectly contrasting with the white polyester of Buffy's jacket. Each face was framed with tousled blonde hair, both of their bodies moist and slick from the rainfall. Spike was gripping Buffy by the waist and shoulders, his thumb sensuously stroking where a vampire might bite her. Buffy's hand was hanging loosely by her waist, the one closest to him falling against the shoulder of his leather duster. Her chest heaved up and down in anticipating breaths, exposing a new pleasure to Spike's eyes.

Their scene was frighteningly perfect. It remained that way until Spike's alter ego took over, and until Buffy's mind snapped back from the fantasy it had currently been set in.

Buffy pushed against the vampire, groaning in disgust as she used his body as a manner of standing despite her loss of balance. "Let me go, Spike." Her voice was still venomous, as if her fall had been Spike's fault. Once standing, the Slayer proceeded to brush herself off, straightening her clothes, a rather impossible task though during rainfall. 

The blonde vampire simply sat down in his wheelchair again. "Blame a guy for trying to help". His eyebrows were raised. In all truth, Spike was stuck as to why he had helped Buffy of all people.

"Uh, yeah I'm blaming you! I don't need _your_ help, Spike. Just… ugh…" Buffy flung her arms down, rolling her eyes as she turned away from Spike. She was angry from the confusion currently drowning her, and Buffy spun around the corner of the alleyway, back into the safety of streetlights.

Left in silence, Spike simply stared toward the street Buffy had escaped to, its path shrouded in light. Why had he caught her? It's not like she couldn't have saved herself. In the back of his mind, Spike realized this girl was precious cargo. She had the power to kill Angel if she really wanted to, and the way he was acting, it could end up being a good thing. That was why he saved her, Spike affirmed to himself. No other reason. 

Buffy could still feel Spike's thumb delicately rubbing her porcelain skin. His touch had been so cool, so much like Angel's. So much good came from being held like that, by a vampire. What frightened Buffy though was how she had taken some pleasure in things that were only _Spike_. His smell… the blonde hair, his dark, rain-glistened features. 

It was very wrong to take pleasure in a creature such as Spike, and Buffy knew it. All the way home, Buffy told herself that it was just something to do with her hormones, and the similarity his touch held with Angel's.

It wasn't until much later that Buffy also realised Spike had been _standing_. That now meant Angel, Drusilla, and Spike were a threat to her, not to mention the other hundred or so vampires crawling the streets.

Buffy was glad to make it home and into her nice, welcoming bed. 

Spike, on the other hand, remained in the alleyway for some time. He listened to the scurrying rodents, attempting to use their noise to take his mind off the events that had unfolded before him only moments ago. Perhaps a night with Dru could take his mind off what had just happened. That is, of course, if she wasn't too busy with the nancy boy.


	3. Scheme

"So what do you think?" Angel grinned, an eyebrow lifting as the conclusion to his proposition was delivered. 

Spike snickered in response. "I think you're off your bleedin' nut, man," he laughed. "Even that Anointed brat could come up with a better plan, and we all know how well _that_ turned out" the blonde vampire scoffed again. "I especially don't like the part where _I'm_ the one who becomes this bird's potential love slave. Shouldn't that be _your_ job, mate?" eyes narrowed, the undead badass exuberantly displayed his dislike for Angelus' scheme. 

"Spike, you're still not seeing the big picture here," Angel said, straightening from his leaning position against some old, battered table. "If we do this my way, the Slayer will be dead in a matter of days" he glanced up at Drusilla with a wicked smile. "And then, this town is ours" hands pressed together at their fingertips, Angel continued pacing toward Spike. "And, I know I've been off my game for a while now, but I remember enough to know that owning a town that sits on top of a Hellmouth isn't exactly a worthless victory"

"Oo," Drusilla cooed, blank face suddenly illuminating as Angelus' words allowed for better comprehension of his intentions. "No more having our tea parties interrupted by the mean girl and her naughty puppies… Mummy and daddy will set the rules instead of _her_" although her droning was somewhat incessant, the black widow had a point indeed. "But…" she said, eyes suddenly taking on the pouting canine appearance she often used when things weren't going her way. "Angel… I don't want to share my precious Spike… He's mine… No one else can have him… Not even a little taste," she insisted, suddenly becoming firm. 

"Dru…" Angel practically groaned, though the annoyed reverberation was kept silent. Instead, his eyes danced with telltale suggestions over her slender form, devious grin shaping itself into a seductive pose. "We already talked about this, don't you remember?" 

"Shh…" Drusilla hissed, an equally knowing smile attempting to hide from sight. "Boys who tell must be severely punished" 

Anticipating the fact that a surely saucy remark would flutter from Angel's lips if he didn't do something, Spike cut in as quickly as possible. "So, let me get this straight" exercising no caution in the volume of his voice, the same daring attitude was applied to his narrowed vision. "Dru here puts the whammy on me, as well as Buffy and her little friends. I then…" he stopped, needing to swallow hard in disgust. "I then take a shot at seducing her, lead the Slayer back here, and then you two knock her sodden lights out?" 

"That's right" Angelus replied, voice somewhat tight. "Glad to know you're at a six-year-old's comprehension level, Spike… One of these days you might actually be useful" he smirked. 

"Yeah, well, fact is I think it's a bollixed idea… Why don't you just jump her in an alleyway and slit her throat?" face twisted, amused now that Angel had become the six-year-old in question, Spike settled further into his chair, hoping his smug attitude would change the killer's mind. 

"Because she'll be expecting that, Spike. How many vampires do you think have tried that, only to end up as a pile of dust?" realising that he was undermining his own strength, Angel quickly got to his next point. "Of course, I could pull it off without a bruise… But where's the fun in that?" **__**

"Oh, it's fun you want?" Spike scoffed, head tilting back in partial thought. "All right then… why not kidnap one of her friends, lure the Slayer down here, slap a nice pair of manacles 'round those scrawny little wrists, and torture her for a week or so?" shrugging as he finished, the vampire took a moment to admire his own genius ploy.

"That's what I've been saying all night, Spike" Angelus countered, voice riddled with irritation now, its volume rising in accordance. Hands dropping from their lingering position near Drusilla's accented shoulders, the pompous poof took a stride away from her, obviously the type who needed space in order to rant. "The only difference is… If we do this my way, those friends of Buffy's you mentioned?" Angel spun on his heel, now fronting Spike. "They'll _trust_ you…" he bent forward with a lethargic step toward his bleached comrade, immediately straightening after the movement. "As opposed to kidnapping one of them, where Buffy could easily charge in here with the rest of her Reject-Squad, making it a six-on-three fight". Angel's brown eyes melted into a sea of black, pure inkblots amidst an alabaster backdrop, scarlet lips becoming a coiled smirk of contempt. "Gee Spike, with plans like that it's no wonder you haven't been able to kill her"

"Yeah, well, I don't care _how_ good this plan of yours is… I'm _not_ setting myself up as the Slayer's lap dog… Unlike _some_ people, I prefer to stay on one side of the fight" he sneered, eyes locking dangerously with Angelus' onyx stones, gaze lingering long enough to get his point across… _You might be able to order those weak-hearted excuses for vampires around, but I'm not scared of you, mate._ Not giving his grandsire the slightest opportunity to form some sort of retort, Spike instantly spun on his wheels, red-painted contraption carrying him out of sight in a fluent motion. "Coming, Dru?" he managed to call over his shoulder, dignity not allowing his cranium to swivel. 

Drusilla's first instinct was to reply, ruby-stained lips falling open with the automatic motion. Her voice refused to effervesce though, all threads of attention tied into a firm knot as Angelus' hand found her wrist. Cerulean orbs, always feral in both an insane and animalistic style, were turned upon her sire, crimson lips held partially agape in a new form of anticipation. 

"Dru?" Angel's voice was hushed yet suggestive, refusing to ask the question he already knew was sprawled out in his malicious gaze. 

"_Now _who's the bad boy? Sneaking around, planting little whispers in my head" she grinned, apparently understanding the unspoken subtext. 

"Thought that's what you always liked best about me" although the words would have been innocently flirtatious when originating from any human pair of lips, Angelus was able to contaminate them with a dark edge. "And you know, since I've been… Missing in action for so long, I was hoping you might remind me how it's done" his voice dropped to a pure whisper then, eyes and fingers fluttering suggestively along her slender body. 

"Mmm…" Drusilla mused, able to appreciate the electric effects of his roaming digits despite her mental ailments. "Perhaps during recess… Mustn't play now though… Teacher's expecting me" although she never displayed reluctance with her vocal chords, the dark beauty made sure to point out that Angel's attempt at seducing her was incredibly effective. 

"All right…" Angel smirked, sensual mouth lifting at its left corner. "Until then, you know there's something I need you to do for me…" the right-hand side of his lips joined its companion then, eyebrows lifting as well so that he wore an alluring yet calculating smile. 

"Yes…" Drusilla said with a slight giggle, painted fingernails beginning to trace a path over Angel's cheek. "You want me to make Spike play nice with the Slayer… And then…" the comprehensive glint in her midnight orbs became intoxicated with suggestions of sex, wandering digits beginning to feel consumed by the sensation of Angelus' epidermis. "We can have our fun" her smile was razor-sharp, blatantly begging for even the faintest helping of what Angel had to offer. And in her mind, there was nothing wrong with that.

Unlike Sunnydale's populous of rogue vampires, Drusilla had an acute knowledge on the near-invincible bond between sire and childe. Just as Spike's essence was tied to that of his raven-haired temptress, the same vixen was bound to _her_ creator. Abilities in lovemaking and one's pledge to darkness made no difference in Drusilla's attraction to Angelus. No one could change vampire chemistry; nothing could prevent flames of ice from erupting on the dark beauty's skin at Angel's every touch. The sire bond was eternal, unforgettable; it was alluring and erotic; in many ways, the bind was pure bliss. And it was next to impossible to destroy. 

"So you'll do it for me then?" Angelus whispered, not wanting a single syllable to be overheard. 

Drusilla nodded in response, locks of ebon twirling about her porcelain visage. 

"That's my girl" he smirked, voice still below any human's range of hearing. "And you know what to do? You remember everything I told you last night?"

Drusilla nodded, ivory teeth glinting behind her maniacal smile. 

"Good… Now run off to bed… Don't want to keep our… plan… waiting" he said smoothly, replacing the word 'bait' with 'plan' at the last moment, thinking it might help to avoid any questions. In all truth, he didn't give a damn if Spike's remains were found in an urn after a few days' time. But Drusilla cared, and therefore didn't need to hear anything that might tip her decision in favour of the bleached vampire.

Almost reluctantly, the dark angel spun out of Angel's lingering grasp. Practically hypnotized, the chestnut-haired vampire could do nothing but watch as she was swept away on her own accord, shapely hips swaying amidst some unfelt breeze. _Definitely_ one of the pleasures he'd missed while infected with that… _soul_. 

¤+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+¤

_That… **ponce!**_ Spike raged within himself, putting forth an enormous effort to stop any guttural sounds from piercing his lips. _Who the **Hell** does he think he is? Gets rid of that bugger of a soul and suddenly thinks he can give **me** orders! Thinks he can have whatever… or **who**ever… he wants._ The last comment set his nerve endings aflame. Although he found it difficult, Spike _could_ handle receiving the odd order here and there; he could handle Angelus' arrogant attitude on most occasions. But a very bold, very firm line was drawn when it came to idly watching while the brown-haired sire decided to seduce Drusilla. 

For the first time in countless years, Spike found himself missing Darla. He and the matriarch had never made it their business to grow particularly fond of each other. In all truth, Spike had been relieved when the overbearing blonde had said her final goodbyes, ironically making it back to Sunnydale decades later. But at least she'd kept Angelus busy, kept his constantly wandering eye on a rather short leash. 

Of course, things were different now. Darla was nothing more than ashes in the wind, and a newly insane Angelus found only a wheel-chaired obstacle between him and the ebon-cloaked huntress. Well, a _partially_ handicapped obstacle. Angel didn't even take issue to the fact that Spike could walk now, retreating to the crimson cage only occasionally. _And he wonders why I don't fancy this amnesia scheme of his…_ Spike mused, shaking his head with an airy chuckle. 

Hours could have been spent brooding over his present situation, but the peroxide-blonde vampire was suddenly halted in his task, every thought process coming to an abrupt end. It was then that he felt them, the trio… no… quartet of tremors that attacked his spine, having found some way to penetrate the cushioned seating of his wheelchair. _Not again_… although aggravation was obvious in the vampire's mental tone, Spike could hardly push away the quakes of pleasure that soon replaced his shivering. 

Buffy. Eight days had passed since his encounter with her in the dank alleyway, and Spike still found himself frequently infected with sensations that were unique to her. He would enter a room and suddenly feel as if he were standing in a peach orchard, completely drowning in one of the many characteristics to her unique scent. Or he'd be relaxing in bed, refusing to allow the day to start, when the nape of his neck would begin to tingle, mirroring the caress of her powerful fingers on his creamy complexion. 

Eight days of such mental torture, and he still couldn't understand what conjured the apparitions. It _certainly_ wasn't love; no, he reserved that brainless, idiotic feat for the prancing poof. Was it physical need? Physical attraction? Perhaps he was simply afflicted with a sinful case of lust. Truthfully, it didn't matter _what_ was causing the random haunts; Spike just wanted them to end. It wasn't right, he told himself, to feel _anything_ for the Slayer except unconditional loathing and the need to taste her blood. 

"Spike?" Drusilla's eternally timid voice interrupted any further thought on the Slayer. 

Turning to face his century-old lover, Spike realised he was cloaked in shadow, thus making it difficult to find him. "Right here, pet" he said softly, complete mood swing occurring immediately. He was absolutely blind when it came to her love; never once did he undertake the thought that there were two sides to Drusilla's growing affair. Angelus' seduction, _and_ her acceptance of his cocky allure. No, it was Angel's fault, and _only_ his fault. 

Shadows rippled as Drusilla began navigating through them, evening gown fluttering in her wake where the material did not hug her lavishing curves. Seconds passed, and Spike's eyes remained secured to her form, completely content with simply watching his lover create such exquisite movements. "Spike?" her voice caught him slightly off guard, and the vampire gave a grunt in response, snapping out of his mesmerized state.

"Come here, my precious…" Drusilla lowered her fragile form onto the oversized bed as she spoke, completely leading Spike away from any suspicion in her tone. She knew that her beauty captivated him, and used every ounce of such attraction to her advantage. Curling her lips before speaking again, wild eyes were fixed upon Spike's silhouetted contours as she lightly patted the mattress' surface, deceiving him with every movement she performed. "I've got a new trick to show you…"


	4. Phase One

_I fell for it._

_Drusilla did her best to convince me into dropping my guard, and I admit, I fell for it. But can you really blame me? **Drusilla**, the woman who had been the foundation of my every dream, desire, and ambition for over a century had just chosen to spend the night in **my** bed. _

_Three minutes before she'd been shivering at Angelus' every touch, practically hypnotized by him, and yet here she was. Deliciously wrapped in one of her many stolen yet entrancing gowns, her light frame wantonly requested my presence. Now you tell me, what man or demon in their right mind would say 'no' to that?_

_That said, you can probably guess what happened next. I crawled into bed like any other bloke might if he was expecting to explore some unknown sexual fantasy. Drusilla played her part well, hands eagerly tugging at my belt and shirt, smoothing over my chest while I got comfortable. _

_But next thing I know, she's hypnotizing me. Always thought I'd be immune to that sort of thing, thought I'd be able to see it coming. But no, she lulled me into a sort of half-awake, half-dreaming state, and then started working the rest of her magic. Don't remember much after that, except for the part where I finally woke up. Can't forget to mention either that when I woke up, I had a completely different outlook on my existence… and Buffy's…_

_Ah, almost forgot; before I get to the next part, perhaps I should explain this spell to you in a little more detail. Seeing as though Angelus considered me a disposable piece in his complicated little puzzle, he never saw fit to inform me on how the spell worked exactly. Had to learn that on my own. _

_You've probably gotten the hint that basically, it's a brainwashing spell. Never knew she was even capable of it, but somehow Drusilla was able to completely erase me from Sunnydale's history, as far as Buffy was concerned. Buffy, her Watcher, her gang of super-friends and that feisty mother of hers had no recollection of me after Drusilla was finished with them. And, of course, I didn't remember any of them. _

_I still knew who I was, mind you. Spike; William the Bloody; Scourge of Europe and the Americas. **I**__was one of the things that made bumps in the night. Only, thanks to Drusilla's spell, I thought I'd learned and done it all on my own. For over a hundred and twenty years, I was a solo hawk, picking up groupies every now and then but overall a solitary predator. Drusilla didn't exist; even Angelus and Darla were lost figments of my imagination. My sire was just some random vampire from the eighteen hundreds, one who created a bloodline of their own simply for the sake of doing so. _

_Buffy was left with a few more fragments of memory than I was, of course. According to her, she was still the Slayer, and at that, the first in history to have an army of friends who fought beside her, no matter how dismissively small their number was. It was still something new: a Slayer with pals… More on the point of things though, Buffy was given the right to remember Angelus and that **she'd** been instrumental in his loss of soulfulness. Where I had a few key characters missing from my memory, she had only one: me._

_So, now that you've been more or less filled in on the boring details, I'll jump right to my first meeting with the Slayer, which was right after we'd both had our memory adjustments. Friday night, at that local club… What's it called again? Oh yeah, The Bronze… Well, I'm sure you can already put two and two together, but you might as well hear the **whole** story. _

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"So?" Willow quipped with a shyly concerned smile. 

"So… What?" Buffy's head twisted in response to hearing her friend's voice, brows crinkling in curious confusion. 

"How're ya feelin' tonight?" the redhead's lips pressed together in a smile that was hindered only by her remaining concern. 

Understanding what Willow's mixed facial expressions meant, Buffy gave a little sigh, eyes flickering downward momentarily before lifting again. "Meh…" she groaned, attempting to weigh the different emotions fluttering about internally. "Less 'oh my God why won't the world just end' and more 'hm, guys… kinda cute, but still potentially evil'," she grinned. 

"Well, still, it's progress!" Willow's teeth showed this time as the corners of her lips were lifted, glad to hear that her friend's heart was beginning to piece itself back together. 

"I guess… I just wonder if it's ever gonna stop hurting," the Slayer moped, becoming slightly interested in the texture of her beverage. 

"It will… I mean, I'm not exactly experienced in the area of dating, but it's been barely more than a week, Buffy. Considering everything you went through, I'd say you're doing pretty well," Willow's voice was as soft as it could be amidst The Bronze's exuberant music. Buffy obviously understood though, because a thankful smile was turned in the aspiring Wicca's direction. Willow responded equally, a quick glance tossed in Xander's direction, who was now dancing crazily amongst the crowd of teenagers. "I've got an idea that might make you feel better," she piped up before even realising the words had spun through her lips. 

"Does it have to do with crawling under a rock and watching reruns of Scooby-Doo for the next thirty years?" Buffy said, her voice sounding frighteningly hopeful that such was Willow's idea. 

"Tempting, but hardly what I had in mind…" she paused, allowing anticipation to build within the Slayer. "How 'bout you just take the night off?" 

"Huh?" Buffy's eyebrows cocked as she responded with an obviously baffled expression.

The redhead rolled her eyes with an amused smile, completely aware of how vague her statement had been. "Take the night off," she insisted. "Forget all of your problems and just focus on the fun. Don't even _think_ about Angel, Slaying, or even Giles…" knowing that Buffy was incredibly prone to simmering in her own depression, Willow quickly thought of a compensation. "I promise I'll be _more_ than willing to make up for lost best-friend-listening time tomorrow…" she trailed off, knowing Buffy was intelligent enough to comprehend and consider the offer as she'd described it. 

The Slayer sighed, eyes once again focused upon her drink as she lobbed her friend's offer back and forth a few times within her mind. "You know what?" she prompted, voice promisingly bright. "You're right…" her head tilted minutely to the side, a genuine smile steadily growing upon her features. "I'm not promising much…" she pointed out, eyes fixing seriously with Willow's. "But I'll definitely give this 'fun' thing a second chance" she paused, seeming to contemplate the situation for a second time. "After all, I think it says somewhere in 'The Teenager's Handbook' that Friday nights are _never_ supposed to be mixed with gloominess."

"_That's_ what I like to hear!" Willow chirped, enthusiastically hopping from her stool and taking hold of Buffy's hand. "Come on, I think Xander could use some backup" she smiled with a slight roll of her eyes, always humoured by her best friend's antics. 

_I can do this…_ Buffy chanted internally, following the redhead's lead. _I can do this… Just don't think about Angel, don't think about Angel, **don't** think about… _The Slayer hesitated, giving a quirked smile of resolve before continuing again. _Don't think… Don't think… Don't think…_

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"I _do_ love a good night on the town!" Spike giddily exclaimed to himself, which in turn extracted a few frightened looks from passers-by. His smirk simply grew wider in response though, eyes fluttering shut so his flared nostrils could drink in the many scents that now surrounded him. Liquor and perfume were the most prominent, but his predatory senses found something much more primal in the air… 

_Sex_. 

And oh, how he _loved_ it. 

Fingers latched through the belt loops of his iron-black jeans, Spike began his panther-like prowl, hungry eyes roaming over The Bronze's pulsating crowd. Music echoed from every wall, expensive stereo equipment spitting out a bass-soaked yet treble-charged piece. Strobe lights became active every now and then, momentarily matching the music's rhythm before finally taking their own courses. All for a crowd of sweat-glistened bodies, blood pumping furiously through their veins as they writhed- quite erotically –with the music's rapid tempo. 

His lips were watering already. 

One booted foot was planted before its partner as Spike took casual but drawn-out strides, cerulean orbs never pausing in their search for a potential meal. His animalistic gaze lingered upon every female body, her features judged and graded. But no matter how perfectly each girl fit his ideal, no matter how _im_perfectly she fit it, Spike's search was forced to continue as time and time again he faced the same problem. Boyfriends. 

Vampire lust would swell within him, eyes blazing as they danced over a girl's form, only to be snubbed out when she was swept away in the arms of another man. Flames of desire were practically licking at the back of his throat, his entire body heated to impossible degrees by carnal need, and so far he could do nothing to quench the inferno… Not that he had a problem with ripping into an already taken girl; it's just the single ones tended to cause less of a scene.

Hours seemed to pass by, and finally a vague countdown began in his subconscious mind. Ten seconds now remained before he would abandon the seductive method and simply attack. Another girl, another boy… six seconds. New target: a hot, tight little body, forehead shimmering with just the right amount of perspiration, perfectly shaped hips shimmying provocatively, but again she was in the company of another man. Three seconds. Why, oh why, did he have to be in the mood for a sexual kill? It'd be so much easier if his hormones were willing to settle with the simple act of tearing some girl limb from limb. One second… Ze- wait!

Wait. There. Right there. Another girl. And she was _definitely_ worth an over-time inspection, his sex-drive quickly established, completely ignoring his expired countdown. 

Blonde hair fell messily from its roots, as if she'd stepped out of the shower and offered the mane only a simple comb-through, but it was alluring nonetheless. Beneath the bleached mass was a set of delicate yet well-set shoulders, meeting in the middle as they gave way to what Spike could only imagine were a pair of supple breasts, misleading to the eye with their modest size. His eyes continued their descent, captivated almost immediately by her swaying and flawlessly sculpted hips. Slender yet muscular thighs provided her midsection with fluid movements, the girl's petite and by all accounts perfect body floating seductively with the music's rapid tempo. 

Only one question hung over the vampire's head as his satisfied gaze finished its appraisal. 

Was she alone? 

A quick scan of her immediate surroundings told Spike that his subject of attention was accompanied by friends- one of them male –but they obviously posed no threat to his mission. The redhead and brunette were clearly enjoying themselves, occasionally slipping into laughter, conversation turned every now and then onto the blonde, but she otherwise seemed rather… distant. Instead having a gaze that was fixed solely upon her companions, the girl's eyes wandered through the crowd, searching for anything and nothing. 

To say the very least, she was a perfect target.

Like any experienced hunter, Spike began the first stages of stalking his prey. Limbs stretched languidly as they carried him around the dance floor's perimeter, knowing they had every moment to spare in completing their journey. His destination was reached quickly but casually, feet planted so that he squarely faced his blonde-haired target. Only adding to his casual mystique was the enthralling smile now plastered between either of the vampire's cheeks, subtle in nature yet yearning to be acknowledged.

_Come on, baby…_ Spike's voice drawled within. _Just look up… You **know** you can feel me…_

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"Buffy… Buffy!" Willow's hand batted against her friend's shoulder in an attempt to catch the blonde girl's attention. 

"Hm?" the Slayer snapped out of her slight daze, eyebrows lifting as she was returned to reality. 

"Don't freak our or anything, but I think I saw a guy just now who looked like he was _totally_ checking you out" her eyes widened in calm excitement, lips already curled into a smile. 

"What?" when Buffy's eyes expanded in width, it was due to frightened shock rather than glee. "Where?" she began turning in search of her supposed admirer, though a petite hand halted her before she could pull off a complete twist. 

"Wait…! Isn't this the part where you casually ignore him until another song starts up?" Willow's facial features became slightly tinted with amused inquisition, her palm releasing its hold on Buffy's arm. 

"No, this is the part where I turn around and frighten him off with my anything-but-come-hither look… Either that or I make a stealthy escape," she insisted, voice firm in its defiance.

"Come on," Willow's head tilted slightly, her eyes rolling. "Don't you at least wanna know how… _sexy_ he is?" she had to push the word out, knowing of no other adjective to describe the man in question. Her use of such bold vocabulary stunned the Slayer momentarily, but both girls were interrupted before either of them could continue. 

"Hey, thanks Will! I've been working on my dance moves lately," Xander grinned, making a successful attempt at jumping into the girls' conversation. "Nice to see that someone's finally noticed… You want me to give you a few pointers?" 

"Sounds like an offer I can't refuse," she nodded with a giggle, glancing to the silent third of their trio. "But I just have to finish talking to Buffy… It won't take long" she assured him, looking again to Buffy while her last few words were spoken. 

Xander nodded, shooting a curious gaze between his two female friends before turning toward the stage, his limbs already anticipating the appearance of another tune. 

"So," Willow's smile immediately retained its excited state, two rows of teeth showing through the curve in her lips. 

"So what?" Buffy played innocent, vocal tone suggesting she had no idea what her friend meant. 

"So… are you going to let yourself have a bit of fun? The kind where you don't think about your problems, which includes you-know-who," she said, reminding Buffy of the short discussion they'd had only a half-hour ago. 

"I know I said I wanted to have fun, Will" Buffy sighed, extinguishing the attempt she'd made at glancing over her shoulder. "But I didn't say anything about _dating_," her lips curled in frightened disgust, as if the very word gave her nightmares. 

"Neither did I!" the redhead insisted. "I just said that there is a very drool-worthy guy who is _still _giving you at _least_ a PG-13 version of googly-eyes. I'm also suggesting that you at least _acknowledge_ him… besides, what's the worst that can happen?" she said, justifying her proposal with very valid points. 

"Fine," the Slayer practically pouted after a moment's contemplation. "_If_ Mr. Seduction makes the first move, _maybe_ I'll…" she trailed off, unable to come up with a finish that wouldn't make any dangerous promises to her persistent friend. Willow gave a knowing smile, and Buffy felt the needed urge to dampen her friends' hopes. "But I'll only be doing this because I promised not to think about… him" she said the last word almost reluctantly, honestly wishing that Angel would just dissipate from her thoughts. 

"Well, I think we've just made deal number two for tonight," Willow grinned, everything about her composure still exceedingly cheery. "Now if you'll excuse me," she dared a razor-thin glance past the left side of Buffy's head, her grin only becoming wider in that instant. "I have a dancing lesson to attend," the aspiring witch turned around without hesitation, tapping her life-long friend on the shoulder so as to snag his attention.

Xander and Willow were dancing before Buffy could realise what had happened, and so she was once again left standing virtually alone on the dance floor. _Just forget, remember?_ The contradictive thought was prompted internally, and her lips lifted ever-so-slightly at their left corner. _Forget…_ she tested the word again, and its appeal was still solid. Taking a deep breath, the Slayer somehow stilled herself amidst the pulsating atmosphere, eyes fluttering shut as every thought, question, and piece of turmoil slowly drained from her consciousness. Seconds dripped by, and eventually Buffy was left with nothing and no one but herself. 

Only her essence existed. She had no friends, no family, no enemies or heartache. No personal ties to the world that surrounded her. She was just… Buffy. The Slayer. Witty and dangerous; resourceful, intelligent, and confident. Beautiful and alluring no matter what anyone else thought. Perhaps most wonderful of all, she was alone; a stranger in a new town. No one knew her; no one could hurt or judge her, because they didn't know her. In its truest meaning, Buffy was… _free_. 

Opening her eyes, the Slayer couldn't help looking upon her friends as if they were nothing more than pleasant strangers. Music poured through her veins, and only now did she choose to acknowledge it. Every fibre in her body was vibrating. Whether it was due to her newfound state of mind or the song itself, Buffy didn't know, didn't care. All she needed right now was to simply _respond_. 

Before she could even think to order them to do so, the Slayer's hips had begun shifting in time with the somewhat rapid music. Her hands explored different regions on her body, slipping along the curve of her waist, skating over her thighs, and then heading northward. The outer edges of both her breasts were just barely brushed by the exploring appendages, a pleased smile crossing Buffy's features despite the fact that the resulting sensations were self-induced. Eventually her limbs were suspended in the air, hips still swinging rhythmically.

Simply put, the Slayer was a picture of teenaged sexuality. 

And Spike was going mad watching her. It had been a while since he'd played this game; one where he made the kill more arousing than it was vicious. Usually, he was okay with the patience that such a scheme required. But oh, _God_… This girl was making it hard on him… In more ways than one.  _Can't wait forever, Spike…_ He gladly reminded himself, and after a short, slightly dramatic pause, the hunter began his first languid movements. 

Reaching a proximity of only five feet from the girl, Spike was hit by an intoxicating wave of her aroma. Hormones, sweat, and a slight floral tint were just some of the ingredients to a purely unique scent. Almost immediately, the animal within him attempted to surge forward, the yellow flash in his cerulean eyes going unnoticed beneath The Bronze's dim lighting. Hunger was suddenly racing through his veins, electrocuting every nerve ending to the point where his body was alive with frozen flames. 

Carefully executing the act, Spike brought himself into perfect alignment with his object of attention, lean body flexing to fit the constantly changing angles of her dancing figure. Only inches separated the vampire from his chalice; he could practically feel every pounding heartbeat as it emanated through the thin layers of skin on her tanned neck. _Time for an introduction_… Spike thought somewhat vaguely, chin tilting forward to the point where his tongue could have any desired access to her ear lobe. 

"You look a little lonely, pet," Spike drawled, his hushed baritone voice somehow audible beneath the heavy blanket of music. 

Snapped from her daze, but still floating amidst her newfound persona, Buffy spun to face the intruder, hardly expecting that he'd be standing so daringly close. Admittedly, her first reaction was to pull back in surprise, assess her situation from a more distanced perspective. But New Buffy, Friday-night Buffy, wouldn't allow it. Instead she gave him an enigmatically seductive yet practically invisible smile, emerald eyes flowing from base to crown over his ebon-clad curves. And her mouth went dry. The appraisal was only supposed to be part of her role; something she did just for the sake of doing it. Who knew he would be so… _gorgeous_? 

Moistening the back of her throat, Buffy consciously prayed that her voice wouldn't betray her. "Guess that makes the two of us," she responded slyly, the curve in her lips becoming more defined. 

Spike's bleached head tilted as he smirked, sapphire eyes matching the recent motions of hers, ravenously brushing up and down Buffy's supple curves before locking with her blazing jewels. "Care to join me in a dance then?" one scarred eyebrow lifted amidst his chiselled features, another seemingly impossible footstep bringing him closer to the blonde beauty. 

"Thought I already had," Buffy said casually, her brow furrowed as if the question were somewhat absurd. Tentatively, one hand was lifted to the material of his duster, idly toying with one of the lapels as she waited the few milliseconds it took him to respond.

Spike could do nothing except let out a throaty growl, its animalistic tone luckily going unnoticed by the Slayer. _God…_ _Almost seems it'd be a waste to just **eat** her…_ he foggily realised. _'Sides, it's been quite some time since I last sired anyone_. Afraid to touch the girl just yet, thinking that her body heat might incinerate him upon contact, Spike went on contemplating his newest idea, supposing he'd find out soon enough if she was worthy of eternal life. 

Emerging from his thoughtful stasis, the vampire found that his blonde companion had drifted a few inches away, daring him to close the gap once more. Having made himself known finally, Spike was content to simply watch for a moment. 

Just as before, Buffy let herself go, allowing her limbs and hips to move of their own volition. Sweat glistened from every pore on her sensuously writhing body, half of it, she could have sworn, being due to the fact that two crystalline eyes were most certainly pinned to her body. Bleached blonde hair, leather jacket, piercing eyes, English accent… Every feature fit into an equation that eventually left Buffy devoid of any real-life problems. This man it seemed, was her cure for a not-so-Angelic itch; at least for the moment.

Head tilted down, the Slayer tossed only periodical glances back to her partner, making sure that each glance was drowned in an atmosphere of seduction. Her eyes just barely skimmed his form, remaining set upon it for no more than five seconds before turning away again and fluttering shut, as she was once again lost in the music. Every now and then, she would make sure to rotate her entire body, giving the youthful man a full display of her features, front and back.

Spike was again hypnotized. Yet at the same time, he was screaming for his body to initiate locomotion. Hungry eyes watched as she turned in place once more, and it was then that he decided to make his move. Attacking with the silent grace of a feline, Spike spooned his body up against Buffy's, satisfied by the shocked little gasp that she awarded him with. Icy hands enclosed her shoulders, migrating downward until they found sanction upon her hips. "So…" he muttered, nose brushing intimately close to her ear through locks of honey. "You got a name, love? Or shall I start guessin'…?" he grinned, quite aware of the fact that her body was practically shivering beneath him. 

Buffy was just barely able to stop herself from muttering a dimwitted 'huh?'. She was having a difficult enough time with the concept of breathing. _Now he expects me to think…_? She grumbled internally, somehow coming up with an answer despite her dazed state. "Buf- Buffy…" her voice was barely above a whisper as it tumbled past a set of parched lips. _Evil Buffy…_ she chided. _Not supposed to…_ she gasped, thoughts interrupted when her partner's hips were ground against hers for a fleeting moment, and she groaned. _Not supposed to feel this good…_ the Slayer finished, a few remnants of her inner turmoil attempting to effervesce. 

"Well, _Buffy_…" he accented the use of her name, voice almost faltering as he spoke. Spike was finding it increasingly difficult to stay afloat in the pool of this girl's presence. Despite her petite size, she seemed able to consume him from every angle, her scent intoxicating him, the texture of her bronzed skin practically setting him on fire, that bare, glistening neck constantly coming into view. He most definitely _had_ to have her… _now_. "'S gettin' a bit hot in here…" his tone, at least, was more focused this time. "What say we head outside where it's a bit cooler… A bit more… private," his voice snaked around the last word, hoping he'd guessed correctly in thinking Buffy wasn't the type who liked to move slow. By now his hands were splayed across her stomach, allowing his hips to be practically moulded against hers, and still she had not protested. In a move that was purely tactical, the vampire then ground his growing arousal between her buttocks, he himself groaning with the action. 

Buffy gasped, chest heaving as her exhalation was transformed into another moan. Unfortunately, their already close contact, combined with the vampire's sudden movement, brought her rushing back to reality. Suddenly aware of her provocative situation, the Slayer pried Spike's hands from their comfortable position, turning to face him while still practically in his arms. "I'm sorry," she said shakily, looking into a set of eyes that were contemplative yet dazed. 

"Sorry?" Spike asked without his usual drawl of dark wit. His mind appeared to have lost all ability for thought due to the sudden loss of Buffy's all-consuming form. 

"I can't do this," she murmured, taking a step away from him that, despite its minimal size, seemed to open a chasm between her and the other man. "I wish I could," _because you're gorgeous and that accent is so sexy and God, who knew a guy could look so good with hair like **that**? And did I mention the jacket…? _she finished off the sentence mentally. "… But I just came out of a really, _really_ messy relationship and," Buffy allowed her explanation to go unfinished. Reluctantly, she turned from the boy's grasp before he could give any protest, rushing past her friends and into the cool, cleansing night air. 

Spike was left stunned, partially because it wasn't often that his victim ran out on him, and part of it was because his senses were still recovering from the intoxication that was Buffy. For some reason, it seemed as if the sensations she'd evoked within him went beyond a purely predatory level. True, Spike had found himself attracted to his victims in the past, even gone so far as to give them a night of passion before devouring them. But this…? This had _definitely_ been something completely new. Something he had to taste again, no matter _her_ apparent thoughts on the subject. 

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Buffy ran home. Once her heeled shoes had kissed the asphalt outside, her limbs made the immediate decision to break into a flurry of movement. Odd stares and occasional remarks from elderly citizens and fellow teenagers accompanied her during the entire journey home. After all, it wasn't every day, or night in this case, that a girl dressed so fashionably was seen running down local streets. 

By the time she finally arrived home, the Slayer's muscles were nothing more than heaps of rubber. Trudging through her front door, it felt as if cinder blocks were shackled to her ankles during every footfall. And then of course the task of scaling her stairway became painfully realistic. 

Somehow, she managed to climb the wooden structure, practically stumbling the last few steps to her bedroom. Opening her door, Buffy slid forward a few paces before simply allowing herself to fall against the soft mass of her bed.

Not even bothering to kick off her shoes, afraid that such boring tasks would allow her to form complete thoughts concerning a certain blonde, the Slayer curled up, eyes having already sealed shut in her determination. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd be able to get in a few hours of peaceful sleep before the confusion of morning arrived.

(Author's Note: Meh. I dunno about this chapter… Which means that in this case, reviews are appreciated, requested, and almost needed, heh. But yeah, whether you choose to review or not, hope you liked it in the end! And, hey… am I the only one who is **still** having trouble with getting these things to upload properly? *growls*… In other words, please excuse the somewhat lopsided/unusual/imperfect look to my fiction… Like I say, I'd rather update sooner than worry TOO much about aesthetics… And hey, now I'm rambling! Gonna shut my mouth now, lol… *hints* review!)


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